


From Ashes

by SilvCyanide



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Alternate Universe - Royalty, Concubines, Emperors, Espionage, M/M, Poetry, Rebellion, Romance, Secret Identities, i don't want to spoil more with the tags
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-02-25
Updated: 2017-04-01
Packaged: 2018-09-26 21:07:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 7,597
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9922127
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SilvCyanide/pseuds/SilvCyanide
Summary: Abed, motionless, in a lonely village,For myself I sorrow not.The Forbidden City is a sacred land that only the Emperor, his concubines and various servants are allowed to enter, and there is no exit once one steps foot within its walls. However, it is also the place where a hidden plot to overthrow the Emperor is brewing, involving, among others, the Emperor's favourite, beautiful, brown-haired, brown-eyed concubine, and an apparent palace servant, with raven hair and green eyes.





	1. Chapter 1

「 _Abed, motionless, in a lonely village,_

 _For myself I sorrow not._ 」

Slender fingers loosely grip onto the rim of an ornate china cup, painted pink camellias swirling in an intricate design around the sides. The tea inside has long cooled but its drinker does not seem to notice, preoccupied with staring out the red-framed window into the flowering garden outside.

Another hand, pale white from various creams with callouses softened from oils and perfumes, props up a sharp chin, even as observant brown eyes track the guards wielding sharp sabres, diligently patrolling the perimeter of the estate.

His fingers twitch, as if itching to hold a sword, and he clenches his fist to stop the movement. That isn't his life anymore, and it wouldn't be good to give anything away, not yet. He grits his teeth and gulps down the rest of the cold tea, making a face at the bitterness of tea steeped for far too long even as his thumb rubs away the red smudge left by the rouge applied liberally on his lips and he sets the cup down roughly.

A soft knock on the door causes him to startle slightly in surprise, but he calls out a light, "Enter."

Two servant girls, dressed in the light pinks and purples of the palace maids shuffle in, heads bowed and bodies in a subservient posture. One of them speaks up, tone respectful.

"Your Highness' presence has been requested by His Majesty, the Emperor. We have been ordered to ready you and bring you to His Majesty's chambers at once."

He glances over at the two girls, who begin shaking under his heavy stare, and takes one more look at the scene outside the window before standing up and moving towards the dresser, the two maids immediately following after, faces pale but still working fast as one of them pulls a pale-blue robe from inside the closet and the other sliding off the less formal garments he wore only when in the privacy of his own estate.

Layers upon layers of heavy fabric, embroidered by the country's top tailors and woven with silk settle onto his shoulders, and for a moment they feel like the comforting weight of heavy armour strapped on just before a battle. His skin is doused in strong-scented perfume, even as the rouge on his lips is touched up and his face gets another layer of powder applied onto it, and it still throws him off, unused to the smell of a thousand flowers concentrated rather than the sharp, tangy scent of forged steel.

He is finally deemed ready, and slips on a pair of fine cloth shoes before he straightens his back and exits out the door, the two servant girls obediently trailing after him as he glides down the polished corridor, heading towards the Emperor's chambers.

A servant hurrying down from the opposite end of the corridor collides into him, and immediately he kneels in apology, black hair brushing the floor as he bows to him. He sends the servant a fleeting glance before waving a sleeve and dismissing him, continuing on his way while the two maids let out held breaths, for they knew that this concubine's temper was unpredictable.

Nobody notices the slip of paper the concubine conceals in his sleeves, nor do they notice the lingering look of longing a pair of sage-green eyes gives to the retreating back before their owner composes themselves and hurries on their way again.

Tooru's expression is carefully serene as one of the servants following him knocks on the doors of the Emperor's chambers, and he hears the voice of the Emperor calling him inside.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Inspired by several poems, including the one that's included in the summary, titled, 'Written in a November Storm' or '十一月四日风雨大作' by the Chinese poet, Lu You (陆游).


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _All I seek's defence of my_ _country's frontier,_
> 
>  
> 
> _And to me a station there allot._

「 _All I seek's defence of my_ _country's frontier,_

 _And to me a station there allot._ 」

Tooru returns to his Blue Leaf estate the very next day, looking as impeccable as he did the previous night when he was summoned to the Emperor's chambers. Absentmindedly, he rubs a jade charm hanging off his belt loop with his thumb, the engravings already worn smooth from the friction of his fingers brushing over them ten thousand times. It's a memento, from a previous life, and the only one which he didn't allow anybody to take from him, no matter how much his attendants might think that it was of too poor a quality compared to every other piece of jewelry that adorns his body.

He understands why it would appear so, with the jade a light, pastel-green broken up with milky-white veins spiderwebbing across the translucent surface of the jade piece. His fingers linger on the single horizontal line standing raised from the jade surrounding it, and he smiles softly, fondly.

There's an imperceptible clatter inside his room, one that anybody who didn't actually hone their senses wouldn't be able to hear. Almost instinctively, Tooru suppresses his breathing until it's silent, and he creeps forward, back hunched and long hair brushing his knees. His robes make nary a sound, swishing silently through the air as if like a knife blade through silk.

Pressing an ear to the thin wood of his door, Tooru listens intently for any other sounds or signs coming from the room. Rightfully, there shouldn't be anybody else in the room, as the palace servants are not allowed to enter the room if he was not present, but there it was, the whoosh of air signalling someone inhaling and exhaling. Which means, it's either an intruder or...

Tooru taps sequentially on the wood, gentle thud-thuds that are just loud enough to carry into the room beyond but no further. Abruptly the sounds inside fade away, before a tentative, "Tooru?" is heard from the person beyond the door.

Tooru knows that voice, knows it very well, knows it deep inside his soul. And only one person in this palace would call him by that name.

He eases the door open a sliver, just wide enough for him to slip in, and swiftly closes it behind him, lest anyone sees who's inside.

Instantly, before he can get even a single word out, he's wrapped up by two strong arms and pressed against a muscular chest. He doesn't struggle, because he's all too familiar with this sensation, so he lifts up his arms to fling them over the other person's back as well, tightening his grip over loose green cloth. Servant's attire.

He relaxes, tension drained out of him simply by being so close to Hajime, and buries his nose into the other man's mop of spiky black hair, ever thankful that Hajime had the foresight to close the window, otherwise people passing by in the garden outside could very well look up and see a mysterious servant in the concubine's room embracing the Emperor's most beloved concubine. If that got out, what a scandal it would be.

Pulling away, though reluctantly, Tooru surveys Hajime's face, to check for any new wounds or injuries, as he always did whenever they were able to meet. The other man seems fine, though he's always been rather good at acting, but his stance is solid and his balance steady. It is then that Tooru allows the belated feelings of disapproval and fear for Hajime's safety wash over him, mostly drowning out the happiness he feels. He purses his lips,

" _You came to see me at forbidden_  
_fields of crimson gromwell._  
_Won't the groundskeeper see that_  
_you are waving your sleeves at me?_ "

The meaning is very clear, and Tooru can see Hajime wince at the hidden admonishment. When he looks up to reply, he doesn't meet Tooru's eyes and he seems uncharacteristically shy, and that throws Tooru off slightly, because Hajime is anything but _shy_.

"This is embarrassing to admit aloud, but,

 _Even the life that_  
_I’d not have been sorry to lose_  
_just to meet you once,_  
_now, having met, I think:_  
_“I want it to last forever!”_ "

There's a gentle, pink flush on Hajime's cheeks and he's looking anywhere but Tooru's face as he recites the poem. Tooru is pretty sure that his own face is as red as Hajime's by now because Hajime has never been one for loud declarations of love, even to him, when he notices Hajime fiddling with something in his right hand. It's a slip of jade, looking extremely similar to his own, and engraved in the piece of jadeite is a single character, 徹.

Tooru feels a burst of affection fill his heart, and he moves forward to plant a quick kiss on the other's cheek and watch his face heat up even more. Even after all these years, small, impromptu signs of affection never fail to fluster the usually stoic man.

He pulls Hajime to the seat by the window and sits them both down, planting his head on his beloved's shoulder when he's done that. A hand, rough and coarse from years of work and training, comes up to thread through Tooru's hair, and he lets out a sigh of contentment. He much preferred Hajime's rough hand than the wandering hands of the Emperor that hadn't seen a day of hard work in his life.

"Hajime, is there any news from Sawamura-san?"

Hajime's forehead wrinkles in a slight frown and he makes a dissatisfied sound.

"None so far, other than what was written on the paper I gave you. Sawamura hasn't been able to send messengers in all that often and I haven't been able to slip out lately, what with the Emperor increasing the security and all in response to the sudden surge of rebellion activities. Not that he's wrong to increase security though, but it does make the job harder."

Tooru hums, but doesn't respond, and thinks back to that tiny slip of paper with only a time, date and place written on it that he makes sure to burn with one of the candles in the Emperor's chambers once the old man had fallen asleep.

They sit there in the dim light, surroundings brightened only by the incandescent glow of several candles lit in the corners of the room. Even though the window has to be shut the whole time, and Tooru can't look outside like he usually does, he finds that he doesn't mind it one bit if Hajime's there beside him.

If anyone looked in, they would have seen the bizarre - not to mention, forbidden - scene of a concubine of the Imperial Harem leaning gently against a lowly palace servant.

 

* * *

 

Hajime straightens his robes as he exits Tooru's room, a tray in his hands on which a pot of tea and a cup sit, so as to not arouse suspicion as to why a servant would be leaving His Highness' room at this time of night. He had spent nearly the whole day with Tooru, at the risk of being discovered twice, but he doesn't regret it one bit.

He returns to the kitchen, where meal preparations have mostly ceased, and there are only several people from the night shift preparing the ingredients for the next day's breakfast. One of the men lounging in the corner, chatting to a few others, looks up, and beckons Hajime over with a loud, "Yamato, over here!"

Hajime raises the tray in his hands and indicates with his head towards the bucket where dirty dishes are placed to be washed, quickly placing down the tray beside the bucket, out of the way of human feet, and walks over to the group that the man has beckoned him to.

Once he sits down, he's immediately dragged into the conversation, something about how one of the princesses is currently being courted by a noble's son, and that this courtship is much more ridiculous and extravagant than the others. It's usually inane palace gossip, but sometimes there's an important nugget of information in carelessly spoken words, so no matter how mind-numbing, Hajime listens carefully.

"Hey, did you hear? Apparently the Emperor is holding a poetry contest, and the winner is allowed one wish that the Emperor will deem appropriate to grant. Anybody is allowed to join, even us servants!"

The man who had called Hajime over, a laid-back fellow by the name of Issei turns and addresses him now.

"Yamato, weren't you pretty good with poetry? Why don't you enter and try your luck?"

Hajime considers it for a moment. If he won, he could probably request being allowed to pass through the walls as freely as he wished. It would certainly be useful if he were able to leave the Forbidden City without having to risk his life sneaking out, and the plan would proceed much faster this way.

"I'll think about it."

The other men do not question his answer and return back to their conversation. Hajime wonders if Tooru is going to participate as well. God knows that Tooru has always been better than Hajime at poetry by many miles, even if Hajime's skill in combat is many leagues above Tooru's.

After a period of time with conversations winding down and nothing else to show for it, Hajime excuses himself, citing a tiring day as the reason to why he’s going to bed so early. Along the way back to servants’ quarters, he collides with someone for the second time in two days when he rounds a corner, sending papers flying into the air and scattering across the courtyard. It’s become second nature by now, and he bows down in apology, and hurries to gather the papers for who he now recognises as one of the officials working in the political division, an unpleasant, weasel-y man named Watanabe Yoichi with a moustache and beard that extended to his chest and squinting eyes that often stared at people in suspicion. Shrewd but with no weapon skills to speak of, he was only kept around for his mental prowess. Watanabe clicks his tongue in annoyance, and barks a, “Watch what you’re doing, stupid servant boy.” Hajime keeps his eyes lowered and hands moving, not saying a word except a few apologies.

Hajime’s eyes skim over some of the lines in the documents he’s gathering up, and he memorises what little bits of information he can glean from them. They’re not much, only a little bit about the Imperial Army, but anything is better than nothing. He hands them back to the official, head lowered and trying to seem an unimportant as possible. Interacting with high-ranking officials always made him uneasy, paranoid that he would be recognised by someone.

Watanabe receives the papers with hardly a glance spared at Hajime, more occupied with arranging the papers in order before he suddenly pauses and scrutinizes Hajime closely, eyes narrowed to slits, after which a smirk floats up onto his face, making him look much like a cat that’s got the canary. Hajime maintains an unruffled front, but uneasiness blooms deep within him.

The official doesn’t seem to have any other words for him, as he turns and strides away, clothes billowing behind him, but just before he is out of earshot, Hajime hears him mutter, “Iwaizumi Hajime.”

His blood goes cold, and his hands shake slightly, so he hides them in his sleeves. Nobody should know of him as anything but Yamato, and for all intents and purposes, Iwaizumi Hajime is dead. He died the very same night that the Iwaizumi and Oikawa houses ceased to exist. But it may just be his imagination, and he shouldn’t take action without proper confirmation the other party knows something they shouldn’t.

Hajime takes a deep breath, sheathes the knife concealed in his sleeve, and walks away.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Poems used in this chapter are:
> 
> 'Written in a November Storm' or '十一月四日风雨大作', lines 3 & 4 by Lu You (陆游）
> 
> 'The Crimson Sunset' from Ten Thousand Leaves, by Lady Nukata
> 
> 'The Morning After' from Hyakunin Isshu, Poem 50


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 「 _Lying in the depth of the night I listen_  
>  To the winds blowing the rain,」

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter would have come out earlier but I messed up while writing it and had to rewrite about 1000 words of it, regardless it's here now so enjoy.
> 
> *Casually drops in the bit about Tooru and Hajime being married* No biggie.

「 _ Lying in the depth of the night I listen _ _  
_ _ To the winds blowing the rain, _ 」

 

Hajime holds his breath when two guards on patrol pass below where he is crouching in a tree, green robes thankfully blending in with the leaves. When they disappear around a corner, he exhales in relief and quickly runs across the branch to leap onto the roof tiles of the small building next to the tree, crouching low to remain hidden. Even though he’s done this many times, sneaking out of the Forbidden City is a risky job and makes him nervous every time, especially now that security had been tightened.

 

Hajime runs over the route in his brain once again as he moves from his spot on the roof. Across the roof, down onto the roof of the storehouse, onto another tree and finally from the top of the tree to the part of the wall surrounding the Forbidden City that had the least security. It would then be a scramble to move far enough away from the walls before anybody spotted him so that he could change into less conspicuous clothing. 

 

Luckily, it seemed the gods were on his side yet again, as he managed the journey without being spotted, stuffing his green clothes into a back and replacing them with much more ordinary ones, coloured in shades of blue. Then it was a matter of a short walk to the Sugawara household, their estate occupying the most prominent location on the street.

 

Hajime is let in immediately by the guards standing alert at the main gates who recognise him, even as they bow respectfully in his direction. There’s already a servant waiting at the entryway to lead him to Sugawara so he wastes no time and leaves his shoes at the door, following the man down the hall.

 

His sock-clad feet make no sound as they walk along the maze of corridors, when suddenly there’s a thudding of footsteps and two small figures slam into his midsection, causing him to stagger in his footsteps. Two round faces, one with an excited expression and the other with a blank face, save for the tiny smile on his lips, peer up at him.

 

“Iwaizumi-san! You’re here today to see Daichi-san right? Can you teach me more swordfighting and poetry later?”

 

Hajime ruffles red hair with a fond expression on his face.

 

“Yo Shouyo, I see you’re loud as always. Have you managed to execute all the steps of the kata I taught you perfectly? You need to be able to do that or else I won’t teach you the next one. I don’t have much more to teach you on poetry though, Tooru’s the one who’s better at that.”

 

Shouyo’s hair seems to deflate at the statement and he lowers his head, before he seems to perk up again and stare into Hajime’s face with a determined expression.

 

“N-not yet, I’ve only done until the sixth form, but I’m going to go practice them right now! I’ll finish before you leave, you’ll see!”

 

He runs off in a blur of red and green, towards where the wards of the Sugawara households have their rooms. Hajime huffs in amusement, fully aware that the boy definitely wouldn’t be able to master all forty forms in just a few short hours.

 

Hajime then turns his attention to Tobio, who had been waiting patiently for him to be done.

 

“Tobio, have you been keeping up with your sword practice?”

 

Tobio looks up at him, head already furiously nodding. He seems to hesitate for a moment with what he wants to say, before he intones in a clear voice,

 

“Iwaizumi-san, will you teach me advanced swordfighting?”

 

Hajime can only repress an exasperated sigh and stare Tobio straight in his eyes, clear and without guile.

 

“You know, Tobio, you ask me this everytime I come here, and I’ve told you that I won’t teach you because you already have a teacher. You have Sawamura teaching you swordfighting, don’t you? Have you asked him about this?”

 

Kageyama fidgets, fingers fiddling with his sleeves, before he says, so softly Hajime had to strain his ears to catch it,

 

“Daichi-san told me that he wouldn’t teach me until I turn 12, but I’m already 10 this year, and you started learning when you were 9.”

 

Hajime’s expression softens and he sighs yet again, reaching a hand to rub the boy’s head.

 

“Back then, I had no choice but to start early. The country was at war with the country neighbouring ours and we needed to be able to fight, but you don’t have to do that. The reason Sawamura tells you to wait until you’re 12 years old is because some of the forms could strain your body badly if you practice them too young. I injured my shoulder and it’s still weak even now, so I don’t want that to happen to you, and I’m sure that’s also the reason behind Sawamura not wanting to teach you just yet.”

 

Tobio’s face shines with disappointment, but there’s also understanding painted across his face, and he mumbles,

 

“I never knew that… I won’t ask you again, and I promise I’ll wait until I am 12.”

 

Hajime smiles at him and sends him off, watching the boy scamper towards the direction of the training grounds, probably to practice the basic forms again. The servant still waits silently by the side, but there’s a small smile on his face as well, and when he gestures to continue towards the tea room, his attitude seems less cold as well.

 

The servant knocks softly on the bamboo-paneled door and Sugawara’s voice can be heard echoing out from inside, calling them to come in.

 

Hajime pushes the door open as the servant bows and walks away, his job done. Sugawara and Sawamura are sitting side-by-side, across from Ushijima and Semi. Hajime sits down beside Sawamura and nods a greeting to the four men. Sawamura is the one to speak up first.

 

“Iwaizumi, have you gotten any new information from Oikawa about the situation on the side of the Emperor?”

 

Iwaizumi takes a sip of tea from the cup a maid had just set on the table in front of him, taking the time to think about his answer. 

 

“Tooru tells me that the Emperor is getting antsy, he’s begun recalling all the soldiers back to the Imperial Palace and fortifying the walls. The attacks launched on the Emperor’s outposts have apparently caused him to panic and make mistakes.”

 

Something flashes across the forefront of his mind, and he lets out an, “Ah.”

 

“When I collided with an official the other day, I saw something on of the documents he was carrying. Apparently after the Emperor called for the attack on  _ that day _ ,” Here, Hajime can see Sugawara wince in sympathy, and his heart still twinges in pain when he thinks of his deceased family. “the soldiers of both of our households were absorbed into the Emperor’s army.”

 

An angered expression flits across Hajime’s face before he takes a deep breath and smooths out his expression again.

 

“The soldiers of the Oikawa and Iwaizumi households will only ever listen to the heads of the family, and never anyone else, and right now the heads of the families are Tooru and I. I think it’s worth a chance to see if that loyalty still holds. If it does, it would be a great advantage to have roughly ten thousand soldiers loyal to us in the Emperor’s army.”

 

There’s silence where the other four think over his suggestion. 

 

“There’s too much of a risk, what if they’re not? You could potentially blow your cover and alert the Emperor to the possibility of spies in the Imperial Palace.”

 

Semi raises his cup, taking a drag before setting it down, hand waving to emphasize his point. However, before Hajime can open his mouth to defend his point, another voice speaks up.

 

“No, I believe there is worth in this plan to merit its implementation. Iwaizumi, how confident are you that the soldiers will follow you and Oikawa?”

 

Ushijima’s eyes are piercing, but Hajime isn’t known as a famous War General for nothing, and he doesn’t flinch at the stare.

 

“I am extremely confident. It hasn’t been the first time their loyalty’s been tested, and they have not betrayed us yet.”

 

“That doesn’t mean they never will-!”

 

Semi breaks off halfway through challenging his point, due to a look from Ushijima, and Hajime is reminded once again that despite first impressions, Ushijima is the head of his house and Semi is merely his right-hand man.

 

Sawamura exchanges a look with Sugawara, who nods, and he clears his throat before declaring,

 

“Then I think that it’s been decided? Iwaizumi, we’ll be counting on you to talk to the soldiers.”

 

Iwaizumi nods, “Of course.”

 

* * *

  
  


Tooru turns the corner towards the barracks, where the soldiers are currently training late through the afternoon. The sound of swords striking wood and metal could be heard long before the training grounds even came into sight, and Tooru could already smell the nostalgic scent of forged steel in the air. He thought back to how Hajime had slipped into his room - again - at night and told him about the armies of their families being added to the Emperor’s own army. If Hajime’s faith in the loyalty of their soldiers proved to be well-placed, well, Tooru could continue along that line of thought.

 

He had ditched his attendants, saying that he was going to be visiting the barracks and that there would be no need for any of them to be present, then all but ordered them to scram. Otherwise, there would have been the annoying presence of untrustworthy persons hovering over his shoulder, within earshot of everything he says, wherever he went.

 

Through a bit of manipulation, he managed to get the Emperor - an idiot, on top of being a coward - to carelessly spill the details of the soldiers and their training grounds. According to the Emperor’s unmindful, frustrated rants about the unwilling obedience of the soldiers, those from his family and Hajime’s family’s armies are obeying the Emperor, but only barely, and that gives Tooru confidence that he could turn them to their side.

 

The soldiers are stationed in barracks twenty to twenty four, and Tooru first heads to the training grounds linked to number twenty, knowing that those there are most likely from his family. The first thing he sees, is line upon lines of men dressed in light training robes, holding dull metal swords as they sparred. The overbearing heat bears down on them and exhaustion is plain on their faces, but despite that, none of them give up, stances unwavering despite the rivers of sweat pouring down their faces.

 

Pride shines in his eyes, and he remains in the shadows cast by a tree, observing their training, wanting to see how long it’ll be before someone notices him.

 

Eventually, a young man, with light-brown hair and large, expressive brown eyes looks over and spots him, and Tooru feels a jolt of surprise as he realises that he knows this man, who was part of the unit that he lead back when he was still the famed War General, Oikawa Tooru, alongside his husband.

 

“This one greets Your Highness, Minoru-sama, what business might you have here?”

 

Upon hearing him speak, the other soldiers stop what they’re doing and look over with wariness in their eyes. Tooru ignores the cold looks in favour of addressing the man in front of him.

 

“Why, don’t you recognise me, Yahaba-chan? I didn’t know your memory was getting sloppy, just like your stances. You still have the bad habit of turning your arm out way too much for form 17.”

 

As he says that, he pulls out a handkerchief  and begins wiping at his face. The handkerchief comes away stained with red rouge and white powder, but his face is clean, and he can see Yahaba gasp in shock when the man realises who he’s looking at.

 

“T-tooru-sama? You’re alive?”

 

The other soldier’s attentions are immediately captured by that exclamation, and they rush over to see if it really was Tooru. Tooru looks over them and smirks, “Of course, did you think that I would die to the likes of the Emperor’s forces?”

 

Another man, by the name of Watari, speaks up now.

 

“What are you doing in the Forbidden City, it can’t possibly be safe, and how is Hajime-sama, is he…”

 

He trails off, but Tooru can see what they’re all thinking.  _ Is Hajime-sama dead? _

 

“Hajime is alive, and he’s in this palace as well. However, I cannot tell you anything more unless you answer this question. Are you willing to fight for us again, or will you side with the Emperor?”

 

There is no hesitation as voices call out loudly,

 

“Our loyalty is to the houses of Oikawa and Iwaizumi. We will be honoured to fight for you once more!”

 

Tooru smiles, pleased, “Then, let me explain the plan.”

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Poems used in this chapter are:
> 
> 'Written in a November Storm' or '十一月四日风雨大作', lines 5 & 6 by Lu You (陆游）


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 「 _And iron-clad horses o’er frozen rivers,_  
>  _As of old, invade my dreams again._ 」

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy April Fools! Unfortunately I don't have a prank for you guys, just this chapter that I FINALLY finished.

「 _And iron-clad horses o’er frozen rivers,_  
_As of old, invade my dreams again._ 」

The Imperial Palace is bustling, even early in the morning, and Hajime is momentarily confused before he recalls that today is the day that the Emperor is holding the poetry contest. It’s been a month or so since Tooru visited the twentieth barrack, and Hajime himself has snuck over during the early hours of the morning the very next day to see his family’s old army. There had been several shouts of joy and Hajime was immediately smothered by happy soldiers, several of the older ones who had followed his father ruffling his hair affectionately. They had all pledged their loyalty to him and Oikawa, though he expected no less, and he carefully laid out the plans step-by-step, knowing that none of them would rat them out. Then, it was with an order for them to carry on as usual and show no signs of recognition if they were to see him that he left the soldiers’ barracks, heart feeling much lighter than before. After all, some of them had basically watched him grow up, and he was happy to be able to see them again.

Hajime stretches his arms, stiff from sleeping in the tiny room that he has to share with three others and rapidly gets dressed, making his way to the kitchens where he was assigned to the morning shift. Even though the Emperor has stated that servants were allowed to participate, that did not mean that they would be allowed to neglect their duties. Those who did not register had to serve the nobles during the contest itself, while the pitifully few that did had to make up for the work they would lose by putting in extra hours. Hajime nearly forgot that he had entered, placing his name down - fake, of course - on the piece of paper placed innocuously on a table in the main area of the Imperial Palace, next to an inkwell and a brush. He had even gone so far to purposely make his strokes rough and unrefined, the way a commoner who had the barest of education would be expected to write, instead of the elegant calligraphy that was drilled into every noble since birth.

Now, he was running around the kitchens, helping to cook the meals and various snacks that the nobles would snack on during the contest. Sweat ran down his brow, and he barely had time to think, one finger - thankfully on his non-dominant hand - throbbing from pain when he had brushed it against the side of a cast iron pan that had just been removed from the fire.

A voice calls from the entrance to the kitchen, and Hajime looks up to see Issei wave at him.

“Yamato, the poetry contest’s starting soon! You better hurry up to the main hall.”

Hajime splashes some cold water from a pot onto his hand, throwing a thank you over his shoulder at Issei as he rushes from the kitchen, hoping that he wasn’t late. He wasn’t sure if he would still be allowed to participate if he arrived late.

Luckily for him, he wasn’t late after all, and he took his place at the very back of the hall, among several other servants, palace maids and some lower-ranking officials. It was cramped and he hardly had anywhere to move his arms, but that was to be expected, since he had to share a table with two others. Only the nobility and high-ranked officials had the luxury of a table to themselves, near the front of the hall where it was much cooler. Hajime smiled faintly when he saw a familiar head of chocolate-brown hair, sitting close to the very front with their robes draped elegantly around them.

The Emperor arrived barely five minutes later, his grand robes trailing after him in shades of red, green and gold, and as a collective whole the entire hall stood up to greet him, waists bending almost ninety-degrees for the nobility, while the servants kneeled on one knee.

He cleared his throat, seated on his raised throne, and addressed the hall,

“We would like to take this opportunity to wish all participants good luck in this competition, and to remind all participants that the prize will be one wish asked of Us, within reason, and that even servants stand an equal chance to win, so to try your best. Next, we will be announcing the theme of this contest.”

He lifted the fine brush from the inkwell and dragged it through the black liquid before writing a single word on a large piece of paper with bold strokes.

_LOVE_

“The theme that We have chosen is ‘LOVE’, and We are very excited to see what kind of love will present itself in the poems created today. The time limit will be the span of three incense sticks. All those who have not completed their poems by the end will be disqualified. You may begin.”

From the corner of the room, a lit incense stick, stuck in a pot, was carried over and set on a small table in front of the Emperor’s seat, a flurry of movement and rustling accompanying the action as nobility and servants alike picked up their brushes and pondered the theme.

Hajime stared at the brush propped up against the side of the inkwell, the tips of it barely trailing in the dark ink, wracking his brain for inspiration. He was not very good with themes about emotions, because that was Tooru’s forte, and was much better at poetry about scenery or about warfare, though they still usually fell short of anything Tooru’s mind could come up with, so he hardly even had any past poems to go off of, and certainly nothing on love.

Looking up, he was more than a little startled when he saw that the first incense stick had already burned all the way through, and the second was almost all gone as well. Had he really taken that much time to think? A glance to his right showed several people already done, reviewing their poems as they waited for the time to pass. He glanced back to the front, and caught sight of Tooru yet again, back straight and sitting poised as ever, elegance in his every movement. His eyes lingered, but he remembered that currently, they weren’t Tooru and Hajime, but rather Minoru and Yamato, and that it would not be tolerated if anybody saw that he was staring fondly at the Emperor’s concubine, so he unwillingly tore his gaze away.

However, thinking about Tooru made a flash of inspiration hit him, as a memory of when they were younger surfaced in his mind. They were hopelessly pining after each other, and at one point Hajime had accidentally let slip his affections for Tooru, and so their relationship began that they initially tried to hide from their parents, who they thought would not allow them to be together, because Tooru’s mother had mentioned multiple times how she wanted to arrange a marriage for him with the official’s daughter on the other side of the city. Curiously, though, it felt as if their parents were already aware of their relationship, despite absolute secrecy from both of them, and it is that feeling of bewilderment and mild surprise that Hajime felt back then that he channeled now, putting brush to paper as the words flowed from the hairs.

The low buzz of a gong being hit sounded out just seconds after he had put down his brush, and Hajime sighed in relief, blowing lightly on the wet ink in hopes that it would dry faster. A maid who Hajime vaguely recalled having seen in the West wing of the Imperial Palace several times came around to collect the papers, arms already loaded with a thick stack, and Hajime handed his over with a smile in her direction. All around him, he could see expressions of despair, confidence and even arrogance as the different participants looked toward the front of the hall, where there was a row of officials acting as judges evaluating each poem.

Many were eliminated quickly, as low murmurs of, ‘Lacking elegance.’, ‘Does not adhere to theme.’ and even ‘Complete garbage.’ echoed from the ten judges. Still, it took over an hour for them to finish judging the poems, and just when several started to get restless, each judge stood up and presented a poem to the Emperor, who received them and looked over the works of the finalists.

Finally, he stood up and in his hands were two pieces of paper. Casting his eyes towards the crowd, the Emperor declared, “Of the ten best poems that were given to me, I have chosen two of them, one is the winner of this contest, but I feel that the second deserves a mention, as it was a difficult decision to make. The winner of this contest is none other than…”

The Emperor shuffles the papers in his hand, looking over to the winner.

“...my beloved consort, the consort Minoru!”

The room is filled with the sounds of polite applause, and Hajime can see what seems like the smallest hint of a smug smirk quirking up the edges of Tooru’s lips. A few whispers drifted into his ears, and Hajime tunes in to them, only to hear infuriating words being spread around.

“-must be because he’s sleeping with the Emperor-”

“-bet he doesn’t have any true ability-”

“-how despicable of him to-”

He feels a desire to punch those talking about Tooru behind his back, but Hajime knows that he just can’t harm anybody without a proper reason to, because as much as he wants to, he’s only a lowly servant right now, and he has to keep his head down to attract as little attention as possible.

Clearing his throat to silence the noise, the Emperor then proceeds to read out the poem on the sheet of paper,

“ _Even though I hide it,_  
_it shows all over my face,_  
_such is my longing,_  
_so that people ask me_  
_"What are you thinking about?"_ ”

Affection fills Hajime’s chest as he looks straight into the back of Tooru’s head, where he can clearly see his long hair twisted up into an elaborate hairdo and held in place by several hairpins of what appeared to be top-quality craftsmanship. Hajime could see one that looked just a bit rougher than the others, not as finely made, and he knows that it’s the one he gave Tooru several months after they assumed their current identities, to assure him that no matter what, he would always love him.

The Emperor sets down the first piece of paper, and straightens out the second, running his eyes briefly over the text, before he speaks again,

“This poem was written, not by any of the nobility, but by a palace servant, and We feel that for a servant to write such a fine poem, it is indeed deserving of praise and an honourable mention. The author of this poem, is a man by the name of Yamato.”

Hajime sits up straighter at that, looking closely at the piece of paper that the Emperor is holding, the material translucent in the light of the lanterns behind the Emperor. There’s no mistake, the shadow of the ink on the paper match his writing, so it certainly must have been written by him, which is a big surprise, since there are many nobles who are much better at poetry than he, yet he managed to earn recognition from the Emperor, worthless as it is.

" _Our courtship, that we tried to hide_  
_Misleading is to none;_  
_And yet how could the neighbours guess,_  
_That I had yet begun_  
_To fancy any one?_ "

There was, once again, murmurs that spread through the hall at the recitation of his poem, and he could guess that it must have been due to surprise that a servant could even write that well, and he winced inwardly. He had been too careless, and his cover had slipped. Hopefully nobody would notice.

At the side of the hall, a pair of eyes narrowed as they stared at Hajime, suspicion filtering through them unchecked.

The Emperor beckoned towards Tooru, who stood up and walked towards where the Emperor was seated, waist bending in a formal bow, and said, almost endearingly,

“Well, my dear, as per the rules of this contest, you may ask one thing from me. Speak.”

Tooru did not raise his head, but straightened out from his bow, and spoke up in a mild tone,

“Your Majesty, if it is not too much, I would like to request the servant who earned a mention, Yamato, as my personal attendant, as well as the ability to pick my own guards and maidservants.”

The Emperor stroked his beard, silent and considering, before making a consenting noise.

“Very well, I will approve of this wish.”

Tooru bowed again.

“Thank you, Your Majesty.”

* * *

 

The branches of the shrubbery scratched and pulled at his arms and clothing, and Tooru let out an irritated huff, wishing once more that he had his old clothes with him, struggling with the hem of his robe as it snagged on a twig. Up ahead, Hajime was having a much easier time with traversing the forest floor, clothes lacking the trailing hem that Tooru’s had, and it seemed as if they were close to their destination. Tooru was glad, because he was about ready to rip the hem of his clothing straight off if he had to push through anymore prickly bushes.

A clearing came into view ahead of him, and two figures dressed in green were already conversing by the time Tooru stomped into the open space. The man with pinkish-brown hair cut himself off and turned to look at Tooru, inclining his torso in a brief bow.

“Hanamaki Takahiro.”

Tooru nodded his head back in greeting, and turned to look at Hajime.

“Is he our informant?”

Hajime replies in a low voice, “Yes, he is. Sawamura sent him to update us on the current progress.”

Hanamaki spoke up then, tone serious, and Tooru and Hajime turned back to face him, paying their fullest attention.

“There is urgent news. Our scouts have reported the Emperor secretly sending troops and resources to a fortress near the northern border, we fear that he may be planning to head there and escape to the neighbouring country. Once he does that, there is little hope of finding him, as our forces are not well-established there. Sawamura-san has ordered me to inform you that the plan must be brought forward. Luckily, the new soldiers have almost finished their training, and we have also amassed almost enough weaponry to equip all of them, but he requests you to find a way to see if you can produce more from the Emperor’s armoury.”

Tooru places his hand on his chin, thinking, before he snaps his fingers as a thought comes to him.

“There is a supply of weaponry going towards that fortress in just a few weeks, disguised as a deployment of more troops to reinforce the border. I recall seeing it written on one of the papers on the Emperor’s table just a few days ago. It’s being guarded by only one unit of soldiers, as well as being accompanied by several servants, and I’m sure that I could find a way to alter the papers to include some of the soldiers from our side.”

Hanamaki nods in affirmation, “I will inform Sawamura-san then, and he will send someone to update you-”

A twig crackles somewhere nearby and Hajime instantly spins around, barking, “Who’s there?!”

There is silence, before a fox scampers out from under a bush and darts into a small hole under a tree root, and Hajime’s shoulders relax, the tension bleeding out of them.

“It’s just a fox.”

Despite that, Tooru can’t help but feel an uneasiness in his bones, a sixth sense for danger borne from years on the battlefield, and he knows that Hajime is much the same, a flickering wariness in his eyes.

Hanamaki shifts uncomfortably, clearly wanting to leave this place, and says, “I will make haste to inform Sawamura-san, and he will send someone to update you further.”

Saying that, he bows again before turning and striding into the forest, quickly lost among the thickly growing tree trunks. Hajime, too, turns to walk in the direction of the Imperial Palace, in the opposite direction that Hanamaki has gone to, and half-turns to look at Tooru, inclining his head in a silent, ‘Let’s go.’

Even as Tooru picks up speed to walk beside Hajime this time, he’s too preoccupied to notice the dragging of branches. In his mind swirls thoughts of an eavesdropper and the itch under his skin that makes him perpetually uncomfortable.

_Was it truly just a fox?_

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Poems used in this chapter are:
> 
> 'Being In Love (1)' from Hyakunin Isshu, Poem 40
> 
> 'Being In Love (2)' from Hyakunin Isshu, Poem 41


End file.
